Book Blinded
by HowNowWit
Summary: A chance meeting. A bookshop, a guide dog, and perfume. AU Rizzles. One-shot. Fluffy goodness. [Based on a tumblr prompt.]


Book Blinded

"Excuse me. Can I help you with something?"

Finger still resting on a book, the woman glanced up in her direction, dark curls shifting about her shoulders. Maura could barely perceive eye movements behind blackened aviators, but the way her head tilted, the lack of direct focus, confirmed Maura's suspicions.

The woman gave a crooked smile. "Nah. Just looking."

Maura blinked and glanced down to the Seeing Eye dog standing patiently to heel at the woman's feet.

"Um…"

A raspy laugh brought her attention back up to the owner. The sound was deep, arresting, but also pleasant. It startled her.

"I can just imagine the look on your face." The husky sentence brought with it a smile that revealed unexpected dimples.

Maura fought to keep her blush at bay.

At first she thought her mind was playing tricks on her when a legally blind woman with a Guide Dog entered her small, used bookshop. But several blinks later, the unruly curls and black sunglasses were still there. Then she imagined it had to be a prank, a cover for some nefarious ne'er-do-wells. But as the woman browsed the aisles without a sound – save for a few hushed comments to her canine companion – this, too, was proven wrong. Now, she was intrigued, albeit still confused. And inexplicably embarrassed.

She racked her brain for an appropriate response, nothing that would offend. "We have an audio book section, if you'd prefer…"

The woman waved her hand, an apologetic gesture that also made Maura trail off. "I'm sorry." A long fingered hand pushed curls behind her shoulder. "You sounded so…confused and I couldn't help myself." She scrunched up her shoulders. "My sense of humor isn't everyone's cup of tea."

"That's fine. No problem," Maura assured, smiling despite herself. Something about this woman made her feel at ease, but on her toes at the same time. Maura catalogued her features unobtrusively. Olive skin, angular features, a small cleft in her chin. Slender body, long and lithe beneath causal clothes.

The woman ran a finger down the spine of a book, and turned her head as though to watch the movement. Maura couldn't contain her curiosity.

"Can you, um…" she trailed off, realizing what a personal question she was about to ask a complete stranger. Granted, a very friendly, interesting, and attractive stranger. But still.

The woman looked at her again, a dark eyebrow appearing above the rim of her aviators. Panic seized Maura's chest.

"Uh…I mean," Since when did she stutter with verbal pauses? "Can you—"

"See?" The other woman provided without hesitation. "Legally, no. But also yes."

She leaned forward slightly, and Maura did not find herself pulling away from the new proximity. "I'm a conundrum," she muttered, voice low.

The conundrum smiled again – more of a smirk, really – and Maura tried to remember how to breathe.

A silence descended upon them. Maura tried to find something to say to fill it, afraid this woman would take the silence as dismissal or disinterest, when both were far from the truth.

The woman slapped a hand on her thigh. "Look at me. Where are my manners." She held out a hand. "You're Isles, aren't you? Of _Isles' Aisles_. Nice play on words, by the way."

Surprised, Maura took the proffered hand. The woman's grip was firm without being overbearing, palm warm and slightly calloused.

"Yes. Maura Isles. How'd you know?"

"Call it a sixth sense," she said, and Maura imagined a wink going along with that sentence behind the sunglasses. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Isles. I'm Jane Rizzoli." Jane pulled her hand away and pointed her thumb toward the dog. "And this mutt's Jo Friday. Seer extraordinaire."

Jo's ears perked at the sound of her name. She appeared to be cross between a golden retriever and a wire-haired terrier, her head coming to just below Jane's hip. Intelligent, soulful brown eyes watched Maura, but she remained at Jane's side. The _Guide Dog_ vest and harness suited her. Jane gave her a pat on the shoulder.

"A pleasure to meet you, Jane. And Jo," Maura added, watching the dog with a smile. "And please, call me Maura."

Jane nodded. "Alright, Maura then. You can pet Jo if you want. She's friendly."

Maura held a hand out, which Jo proceeded to sniff then butt her head against. "I always thought we weren't supposed to." She gave a tentative rub, followed by a more hearty neck scratch when Jo leaned into the touch.

"Sometimes you have to break the rules once in a while. It's called living." Despite the light tone, the words sounded poignant, heavy with the wistful weight of experience.

Maua straightened, a shiver running through her.

"I see," she finally said, studying Jane once more. Maura paused, then blanched, realizing what she'd said. "I mean—"

"Hey. No," Jane reached out as though to touch Maura's shoulder, but let her hand fall before it connected. "Don't go all politically correct on me. I'm visually impaired, not senile. No tiptoeing around me."

"So you can see a bit?"

Jane nodded, seeming open and at ease with the subject. "Shapes and lights and darks. But the written word remains elusive." Jane tapped a finger to her temple. "Just had surgery, actually. New experimental treatment." A shrug. "I'm hopeful, but realistic. Thought I'd pick up a few titles just in case. Worse comes to worst, I can have Jo read them to me."

Smile in place, Jane glanced around again, slipping a hand into her pocket. Maura stifled a laugh and tried to ignore the growing warmth in her chest.

"What were you looking for?" she asked instead, on familiar ground once more.

"I was aiming for crime and thriller." Jane leaned in close to one of the shelves, as though trying to discern the books there. Then she faced Maura with a mock-somber expression. "Give it to me straight, Maura: how far off am I?"

Maura glanced around and bit her lip. "Well, we're in the romance section right now."

Jane huffed a disbelieving laugh and looked down at Jo. "After all this time, you choose _now_ to steer me wrong." Jo cocked her head, gazing up at Jane as she spoke. Jane rested a hand on her head. "Are you trying to tell me something, girl?"

Maura chuckled, and Jane's smile grew. Slowly. "There it is," she murmured, still running her fingers through the fur on Jo's head.

"What?" Maura asked, tucking hair behind her ears.

"Your laugh. I wanted to hear it." She ducked her head at the confession.

"Oh." Maura didn't know what to say. Another blush colored her cheeks.

"It's beautiful," Jane said. Sincere, soft. "You can tell a lot about someone from their laugh."

Maura stared, speechless. She could count on her hands the number of times that had happened in her life. The warmth in her chest flooded other areas of her body, leaving her fingers and toes tingling.

The silence stretched on for too long.

"Andddd now I'll stop sticking my foot in my mouth," Jane said, shaking her head and rubbing a hand on the back of her neck. She cleared her throat. "Sorry. Speaking of laughing…So right now I'm surrounded by a bunch of pictures of half-naked men and swooning women."

Maura chuckled. "Something like that."

"Huh. Not really my type." Her tone indicated she wasn't just talking about book genres.

Maura wanted so desperately to ask what was her type. The words stuck in her throat. What came out instead was, "Any particular author you're looking for?"

"I like 'em all, pretty much. Patterson. Gerritsen. If you'll just point the way, since my canine compass seems to be hopelessly lost."

"Of course." Maura reached out, but hesitated. "May I…?"

"Certainly." Jane held out her hand and Maura grasped the proffered forearm just above the elbow, surprised to feel corded muscle beneath the soft skin.

"This way."

"C'mon girl," Jane murmured, and Jo ambled at their side as Maura led them though the aisles, voicing the necessary turns and stops. Their shoulders brushed, and Maura caught hints of lavender and the crispness of freshly fallen rain. She fought the urge to lean closer.

"I like to make fun of all the stuff they get wrong. The authors," she clarified.

Maura brought herself back to the present. "Wrong? I suppose that means you have experience with crime?" She meant it as a joke, but Jane's answer surprised her.

"You could say that. Used to be on the force. Detective, actually. Retired now, with a pension." Jane turned her head, grinning at her, and at the same time the muscles under Maura's palm flexed.

Her breath caught in her throat.

"Needless to say, we no longer saw eye to eye."

The sensory overload was too much. Maura just stared. She missed the chance for any witty comeback, or even an acknowledgement of appreciation for the jest.

Jane's smile faltered. "Ah, joke. It was a joke. Wow, I'll just—" She cleared her throat. "Subject change. So what's your preferred genre?"

The blush on olive skin was entrancing. Maura wanted to touch it. _…What?_ Maura blinked.

"I don't really have a favorite," she admitted as they came to a stop in the thriller section. _Stop it_, she chastised herself as she released Jane's arm and went in search of a decent title.

"C'mon," Jane insisted. "Everybody has a favorite." Jo's tags jingled as she nudged Jane's leg with her nose, and Jane smiled, ruffling her fur and murmuring something too low for Maura to hear.

Maura selected a few novels and handed them to Jane, reading off the title and author for each. Jane nodded approval of the selections.

"I own a bookshop. Perhaps my interests are diverse enough that I appreciate all books for the pieces of art they are."

Jane continued to watch her – or at least appeared to – rather than the books in her hands. It was almost unnerving, being the center of so much focused attention. Maura's heart began to pound. Jane probably couldn't even see her, not really, yet Maura had never felt so…so _seen_, as she did in that moment.

"Art," Jane repeated, thoughtful, as though tasting the word. "I'd believe that." She ran her fingertips over the books in her hands. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. So to speak." Her tone lightened. "Or ear, in my case. Or touch…"

Maura shook her head, smiling once more. "I never realized how many idioms centered around visual perception."

"Yeah." Jane's nails tapped a staccato beat along a book cover. "You'd be surprised the stuff people don't pay attention to. The things you forget to appreciate."

Maura met Jane's gaze, her curiosity piqued once again. She couldn't have been blind her entire life. There were things she said, things she knew. A detective… Something had happened. What?

As though reading her mind, Jane said, "Five years ago. Freak accident."

Maura's stomach clenched. "I'm sorry," she whispered, heartfelt, finding she meant it more than anything. Her fingers twitched, wanting to reach out. Wanting to comfort. The sensation was a new one. She liked it.

Jane shrugged. "What're ya gonna do?" She flipped the pages of Gerritsen's _The Surgeon_, the wind fanning her curls around her face. "I eventually figured out you have to laugh about it. Otherwise you might cry."

They were standing close, closer than usual propriety called for, and Maura wondered if Jane noticed. Wondered if she felt the static in the air between them. She watched Jane's eyes move behind the sunglasses, let her own eyes trace other features, noticing the cleft in her chin, the arch of her lips. She felt bold for so blatantly staring, yet unapologetic. The urge to see what was behind those aviators grew.

"It's true what they say, you know." Quiet. Like a secret.

"What's that?" Maura matched her tone.

"When you lose one sense, the others are heightened." She let that statement hang in the small space between them, genuine and unassuming, yet sensual, and Maura's imagination cradled it for future ponderings.

After a moment, Jane drew a book closer to her face and fanned the pages, slowly, inhaling. Her tone turned wistful. "I love the smell of old bookshops, old books."

Maura smiled. "I hope mine doesn't disappoint."

"Not possible." A smirk, a head duck. The bashfulness was endearing. "Chanel No. 5."

"Excuse me?"

Jane patted Jo's head, running a hand over her ears. It seemed easier for her to talk with the distraction. "Your perfume. It's subtle, distinct. Without being overwhelming." Her voice quieted even more. "I like it."

Now it was Maura's turn to be bashful.

"Thank you," she managed. It wasn't enough. Maura wished she could say more. Wished she had the words to verbalize what she was feeling, the draw she felt towards this woman.

Jane let out a short laugh and shook her head, as though she found something ridiculous. She rocked back on her heels. "I think…I think I've taken up enough of your time. Thank you for helping me. And Jo. If you wouldn't mind?" Jane indicated the books and held out her arm again.

Maura's heart sank at the words, but she took Jane's arm again and guided her towards the cash register in the front.

"It was mostly for Jo," Maura said as she rounded the table, watching to make sure Jane heard the tease.

There was that smile again. It sent a thrill through her.

"Knew it. She's the player. I'm just her wing man."

"Nine fifty," Maura said after ringing up the books. She bit her lip, then took the plunge. "And how exactly does the wing man take down phone numbers?"

Maura couldn't believe she was being this bold. For someone who opened a bookstore for her love of knowledge and her less-than-optimal social skills, she was discovering a lot of new abilities today.

Jane froze, wallet in hand. Her lips parted slightly and she looked up in Maura's direction.

"I—" Maura saw eyelashes flutter repeatedly behind dark sunglasses. Jane reached into a back pocket and pulled out a cell, holding it up. "A phone that talks," she said, giving a lopsided and disbelieving smile.

"Ah." Maura took the phone and entered her information. "In that case, here." She handed it back, and their fingers brushed as Jane felt for the device. The touch set her pulse to racing.

Jane paid and put everything away before looking at her again. And again, Maura felt that tingle of focused concentration. The late afternoon sun slanted through the windows, highlighting dark curls and the feminine curve of angular cheekbones. Maura waited, hands braced on the counter, until Jane spoke.

"Maura." Just that. Just her name, almost reverent. Not a question, but a statement. As though molding touch, sound, and scent into a single word and committing it to memory.

Maura rounded the counter and stood before her. "Yes, Jane?"

Jane turned. "I wish…"

"What?" Maura asked, breathless.

"I'd like to see you." Jane swallowed. Maura watched the elegant length of her throat as it moved. Anticipation fluttered in her stomach.

Jane raised her hands, tentative. "May I?"

"Yes." Immediate. Unequivocal.

Jane reached out, hands hesitant, hovering just above her skin. Maura leaned into the touch and closed her eyes. She didn't care if passerby could see through the wall length windows. Didn't care about other customers or prying eyes. Her entire focus narrowed to the gentle touch of skin against skin.

The caress was tender, just a brush of fingertips. They started at her forehead, then traveled lower, tracing the contours of her face: the bridge of a nose, the delicate skin of eyelids, rounded cheekbones, the feminine line of a jaw, and finally settled on the arch of lips.

"Beautiful," Jane murmured as she pulled her hands away.

Maura wondered how she could feel so bereft at the loss of connection.

She felt something bump her palm, and Maura's eyes opened as she frowned – only to close again in wonder. Jane drew her hand to her mouth and placed a kiss on the back. Soft, barely there. Like a promise.

Maura swallowed hard.

"Thank you," Jane said. Simple but expressive.

"Yeah." She'd never felt so inarticulate.

Jane grabbed Jo's lead with one hand and the bag of books with the other. "Come on, girl. You've got a new friend to call."

Maura laughed and watched Jane's dimples appear again.

"See you later," Jane called over her shoulder as she opened the door. The bell chimed, a small, happy note.

Hand to the glass, Maura watched her leave and let out a slow breath.

"Yeah. See you."

* * *

A/N: Written based on a tumblr anon prompt sent to JoBeth, who graciously let me play with the idea (at least, I hope it was okay...). The prompt: "Rizzles, chance encounter, blindness, perfume and a book?" Hope this is up to par.

This story _may_ have been influenced by the fact that I went to a used bookstore today (and bought way too many books, I might add), but oh well. I think it worked out okay in the end. :)


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